


Blood for dates, bullets for marriage

by LydeNicoKITE



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternative Universe - No dreamsharing, BAMF Arthur (Inception), BAMF Eames (Inception), Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Mal is amazing, This is funnier than I intended, fluff and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydeNicoKITE/pseuds/LydeNicoKITE
Summary: They have been in love for two years, and almost a third of their dates ended with a gunfight. Arthur knows, because he counted them -- and the dates, too, first to see if Eames would last less than his previous attempts at romance, then with a growing sense of wonder. Arthur fell in love, they reached a hundred dates and only twentynine involved the use of firearms. Arthur counts himself lucky.-Or: how Arthur and Eames survived their criminal life and tied the knot, among other things. There may be long lost cousins, embarassing photos from Eames' past, suicidal omelettes, loving death threats and violence involved. It all comes with the job.-
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception), Dom Cobb/Mal Cobb
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	Blood for dates, bullets for marriage

**Author's Note:**

> This wouldn't be possible without Black_Shuck, who is amazing, and my own Eames, who read this more than once and provided the right commentary for this fic. This is also for those on tumblr who make me love this fandom even more, you all are wonderful.

**ONE.**

- _Eames_ \- Arthur says, clutching Eames’ hair with urgence, breathless in a way that makes Eames moan around Arthur’s cock. Eames hums, keeping a steady rhythm while Arthur seems _really into the blowjob_ . It’s not anything surprising, Eames’ technique has been honed by years of practice, but it’s not like Arthur to be this vocal. 

Few things happen at the same time. 

- _Eames, for fuck’s sake!_

A bullet flies over Arthur’s head, but thankfully the pointman has already shoved Eames to the ground. It’s a testament to Arthur’s skills, really, that they manage to get out of the shoddy motel alive. Eames curses the whole time, thinking of the nice afternoon they could have had there in Prague, involving none of the touristic sights. 

Unsurprisingly, Arthur is dignified through the whole ordeal, even when he has to hide a boner before shooting Carl in the head (fucking Carl, a fucking newbie that wanted Arthur dead. Well, good luck with that, Carl, thinks Eames). Eames thinks Arthur is very hot when he’s angry, but it’s probably the sudden lack of sex that makes his brain horny. Arthur shoots Carl again, and Eames muses the pointman’s more thorough than usual in making sure the guy’s dead.

-Come on, darling, let’s go- he says soothingly as Arthur shoots Carl’s companion for the third time in the chest. Arthur looks scary. Still hot, though. 

-Don’t worry, I know you wanted that blowjob very much. 

-Eames. Just… shut up. 

Cold fury written in every line of his body, Arthur goes to the window, cocks the gun and fires. A guy Eames hadn’t seen a moment before falls from the fire escape with a heavy thud.

-There are others, take your stuff.- Arthur says, taking a second to fasten every button of his shirt before going out of the room. Now it’s Eames the one mourning the end of their afternoon. Arthur is already on the last stage of grief, acceptance, (or maybe the third, anger?) taking out of his bag a huge machine gun like a very pissed off Mary Poppins. 

Eames tries very hard not to say something ill-timed like _Wow, I love you_ , before he takes his gun and runs after Arthur. 

From the kiss they share when they are finally out of danger, Arthur shares the sentiment fully. 

*****

**TWO (Or, one time when Arthur got shot)**

They have been in love for two years, and almost a third of their dates ended with a gunfight. Arthur knows, because he counted them -- and the dates, too, first to see if Eames would last less than his previous attempts at romance, then with a growing sense of wonder. Arthur fell in love, they reached a hundred dates and only twentynine involved the use of firearms. Arthur counts himself lucky.  
Fortunately, the number of bullet wounds was just six, four for Arthur and two for Eames, because most of said gunfights ended as soon as Arthur devised an emergency exit plan. Nowadays, Arthur first looks for exits, then kisses Eames. He was never particularly romantic anyway. 

They are not normal dates, just like they are not normal people, but more like opportunities they take to have a few hours for themselves. It’s Eames’ fault if Arthur calls them dates, because being with Eames makes him ache for some kind of normalcy, for habits, for rituals before and after they take their clothes off. Eames once described their time together as ‘something nice before they have to kill anyone’, which is an accurate if sad way to put it. 

Arthur appreciates how Eames understand his need for structure when everything else in their life is temporary, despite how much Arthur tries to give an order to it. That’s why Eames tells Arthur where he’s going when he inevitably leaves the country, and why Arthur steals, kills and blackmail, but always goes back to Eames after a month or two. 

Having each other is such a miracle of caution and luck that Arthur didn’t tell Dom and Mal until he couldn’t help it. What happened was more or less this:

Mal, dressed in black, ready to go seduce a rich man in the petrol business, opens the door to Arthur’s current apartment. She expects to find him in a tux, a gun hidden behind his back to use if (when) things get nasty. 

Dom, already in position in the place that hosted the gala, types that the mark is in place and has the diamond necklace for his mistress with him. Everything is into place.

Mal opens the door to Arthur’s room, unlocked. She finds Eames, who is watching porn in German ‘to brush up the language’, on the bed. Beside him, Arthur is trying to sleep despite the bullet that passed through his shoulder less than two hours before. Arthur sees Mal, almost screams, tries to move (maybe to turn off the television, maybe to hide Eames under the bed), proceeds to feel so much pain that his vision goes white, goes silent. 

Eames makes everything better, or worse, offering Mal a sandwich if she wants to wait with him for the moment Arthur regains consciousness. It’s the end of their thirty-first date/secret encounter, and the plan to steal the diamond necklace goes to shit without Arthur. Mal doesn’t speak with Arthur for three weeks, not because of the failed heist, not for the bullet wound, but because of all people in the business, Arthur chose Eames and, most of all, didn’t tell Mal.

After a week, Eames gets a mail from Mal where she basically threatens to murder him, not specifying when, where, a particular reason, or a way to make amends. It’s just a fact: _one day I will kill you_ . Arthur reads the email over Eames’ shoulder with a frown, but Eames just says:-Uh, charming. 

**THREE (Or, when Eames’ family almost ruined everything (again))**

Crazy how things change with time. When Eames tells Mal he wants to propose to Arthur, Mal hugs him, then whispers into his ear: -If you dare hurt him, you’ll wish Arthur was the one to put an end to your miserable life. 

It’s basically a declaration of love, coming from Mal. The way Eames understand the subtle difference between a real death threat and a loving one makes him wonder how this is his life.

( Other times, he gets why he’s happy stealing from private collections, forging money, marriage certificates (there are the best stories involved, usually) and passports. His job is varied, his curriculum is extensive (he even got legal for a while, but some habits are hard to lose), and his life is never boring. Arthur is always around, sometimes a shadow in the corner of his eyes, more and more often a solid presence beside him, witty and infuriating and condescending but so, so real. )

Eames decides he wants to marry Arthur after a date ended in blood (Eames tried to call them blood-dates, but Arthur, at the time worried because Eames had been shot in the stomach, didn’t appreciate). 

They are in one of Eames’s flats, marveling at how none of them is hurt while adrenaline still pumps into their veins. The owner of the Fabergé egg they stole (to have a birthday present for Mal, who is difficult to please) sent a few men after them, but nothing too difficult to handle. Eames now takes the Fabergé egg and puts it on the bedside table, beside the ‘A FUCKING RAY OF SUNSHINE’ mug that was Eames’ gift for Arthur’s birthday (it’s difficult to find present for Arthur too, because the man has two guilty pleasures, suits and Escher’s works, and years of being a thief mean that Arthur now has both in abundance). 

The two objects are so different, one a precious jeweled egg from Imperial Russia, the other a 5 euro mug bought at Tiger, that Eames takes a photo of the combination. It reminds him of how they work as a couple, this weird mix of danger induced adrenaline and affectionate bantering. 

-We did good-says Arthur, with the satisfied purr of a post-job afterglow. Despite everything, Arthur smiles at Eames in a quiet way, so private that Eames vows to see it again and again for the rest of his (probably short) life. 

The thought of losing Arthur, of dying during one last risky job, or worse, Arthur dying and Eames being forced to live without him, is enough to warrant a little existential crisis. This time they were lucky, and prepared, but what if their luck runs out? 

Arthur must notice, because he proceeds to kiss Eames so thoroughly that the forger is breathless and aroused by the end of it, the Fabergé egg already forgotten on the nightstand. 

It’s probably not the best moment to think about the future, Arthur looking down at him with so much emotion and serious determination to make Eames’ heart beat faster, but this is how it happens. Eames thinks, _I need to keep this_ . He remembers all the blood-dates, the countless jobs together, he also thinks about how the Cobbs are managing to stay together without losing who they were before they fell in love, a pair of dangerous criminals, but the pros and cons fly over his head. He doesn’t care if things are gonna change when (if, god, he hopes Arthur says yes) they marry. Even the prospect of going legal doesn’t seem so stupid anymore: they have already pulled off impossible heists enough times to feel the novelty wear off. Eames lets these thoughts recede to the back of his brain, the rest of him chanting _Arthuarthuarthur_ like a prayer to a pagan god.  
*****

Three weeks later, Arthur is checking if the location is safe; Eames insisted to meet in an old warehouse in Paris where they have worked before, planning the kidnapping commissioned by Proclus Global, the first job they worked with Ariadne. The place is still luminous and almost empty like that time. With a pang of nostalgia that is not like him, Arthur looks for the chairs they used to doze off during the days of preparation. He looks around and finds nothing that proves their time in the warehouse (of course, he’s the one who cleaned the place from evidence), but in a corner he sees two old, different chairs and a wonky plastic table. 

He really hopes it was Eames who put the chairs there, because he’s fucking tired of shooting people to have some peace. Despite what Eames thinks, he doesn’t enjoy violence, especially because the cleanup is always exhausting. 

A door opens, and Arthur has his gun pointed to the entrance in seconds. Eames smiles, like the threat of bullets is the best welcome Arthur could ever give him. 

-Arthur- he says, changing his name into something completely different with the way his accent shapes the word. 

-Why here?- asks Arthur, checking one last time if anyone followed them before kissing Eames quickly on the lips. He is more on edge than usual, jet lag still mudding his brain. 

When Eames doesn’t answer and, instead, bends on one knee, Arthur’s first thought is _Wait, do it again, this is happening too fast_ . Because Arthur knows he’s gonna revive this moment in his mind so many times in the future, when he’s gonna be in danger, covered in blood, far from Eames, scared, that he wants every detail memorised. He cannot bear to think he is gonna forget the way Eames is nervous but excited, the fact that he’s proposing wearing the salmon shirt Arthur threatened to burn more than once. He wants to remember that Eames chose the warehouse in Paris because Arthur told him he realised he loved Eames there, so Arthur doesn’t mind that in that moment there’s dust everywhere and the air is stale. There’s a ray of light that falls obliquely on Eames’ face, lighting his eyes to a clear green. Arthur surrenders to the inevitability of this moment, as if his life were always going to to lead to this. 

Just like every important thing in Arthur’s life, it happens without his planning, starts and ends before his mind can fully realise what’s happening. Arthur falls on his knees and kisses Eames hard, without saying yes, feels Eames’ relieved laugh on his lips.

-Is it bad that I was more worried of possible interruptions than your response?- Eames says. He has bags under his eyes and he has not shaved, but Arthur doesn’t care because even the rational part of his brain agrees that he’s very much in love. 

-No, perfectly reasonable- he says almost laughing. He takes the ring from Eames’ hands to put it on, thinking he’s gonna have to hide it when he works but it doesn’t matter. He is dangerously close to crying. 

-Come on, we have to go. I won’t celebrate on this awful floor.

Five minutes later, Eames is driving, trying to rationalise that _he’s getting married, what would mother say?_ (something nice and approving, that’s the problem) when Arthur’s phone rings and, of course, a marriage proposal is still not enough to make him miss a phone call. Arthur answers and his face goes from annoyed to more annoyed and angry, a mix that for him means worry, in the worst scenarios. 

-What is it? Arthur, don’t tell me we cannot go to my house. Don’t tell me. Let me drive us off a bridge so that nothing and no one will be able to disturb us again. Death shall be our marriage bed. 

-First, no. That’s morbid and not in my plans. Secondly, we cannot go to your house. Mal almost killed someone.

Eames prides himself to keep calm and swears just once, before asking with all the calm he can muster: -And why, please tell me, should it matter to us?

-Because she says it was someone she found in your flat that, apparently, was sent to kill _you_ . She was trying to see if we were there and she found company.

-Me?- Eames goes through his contact list mentally, trying to remember who could be that angry with him. People he pissed off with the means to find the flat, where he stayed only twice that year, always careful to hide his tracks. His hands tighten on the wheel as he makes a turn to get away from the flat. A pity, he fucking loved the place, it was full of nice memories. Eames had just finished repainting the walls, Arthur had chosen the sofa in the living room in a rare domestic discussion about furniture. He feels the excitement of the proposal dimming. 

-Darling, I’m at loss. Someone who wants to kill me _and_ knew my address. It’s not a good thing. It’s really not. 

Arthur wears a serious expression as he types non-stop but is clearly tired, by the way he keeps blinking in front of the screen of his phone. Eames wants to tell him to put on his glasses, but he knows Arthur prefers wearing contact lenses when he’s not alone with Eames, in a safe place. Eames is very fond of Arthur with glasses, probably because it’s a rare sight even for him.

-Mal said the guy had a photo of you in his pocket, but it’s a weird one. 

-What does it mean it’s a weird one, is it the one where I wore the blonde wig? I fucking rocked that outfit, best night of work in my life.

Arthur can probably tell that Eames’ ramblings are increasing with his worry, because he looks at him and says ‘‘We’re gonna be fine.’’ with such certainty that Eames is glad and excited to marry the man all over again.

Then Arthur makes a weird sound and a startled laugh escapes his lips. _Oh no_ , Eames thinks, _they broke Arthur._

-It’s… oh my god, you were a _theatre kid_ . With _long hair_ . I want this in our living room. Framed in gold. On our wedding invitations.

- _What._ -Eames’ voice becomes more of a very high pitched noise. Arthur’s laugh is almost diabolical. 

- _LET ME SEE._

-DRIVE, YOU MORON.

It’s a testament to Eames’ driving abilities if they don’t end up dead, because seeing the photo gives Eames whiplash and he almost doesn’t stop the car before a red light. He follows Arthur’s directions, even if the other must be thinking about the photo because he keeps smiling every few seconds. It would be a nice world if Arthur smiled thinking of the proposal, but Eames’ fiancé is a cruel human being, and Eames must admit that photo is indeed very funny.

The guy sent to kill him, currently held hostage by Mal somewhere, didn’t have access to any photos of Adult Eames, Thief Extraordinaire. Au contraire, what they had was a photo of Eames at sixteen with a long ponytail, no facial hair whatsoever, shorter and less broad, dressed as Puck for a school rendition of ‘A Midsummer’s Night Dream’. The Eames in the photo is not acting, deep in character, but the picture was obviously taken after the show, when Eames was surrounded by his family who wanted to offer congratulations. That’s why Eames is looking more constipated than happy, even if he now remembers the play as one of the few activities he enjoyed at school. He remembers the teacher that directed them, telling him to put on eyeliner so that his eyes would be visible by the audience. The first time he tried, he almost stabbed himself in the eye - it was a very long time ago. 

-There aren’t many people with access to that photo. 

-I know. But you never told me the flat came from your family’s money. 

Arthur has many qualities, being very good at his job is just one of them, maybe the most evident, but it still happens that Eames gets surprised at how _efficient_ Arthur can be when he starts typing on his phone. Arthur did his research well, but Eames should have thought about the origin of the flat right away. It’s true that he flat was bought with the last part of his inheritance, before he was disowned (before he told his mother to go to hell and stole a painting from the family house, vowing to never come back, actions which led to William Eames [Posh Surname Redacted] being disowned). That’s why he rarely used it at first, even when he didn’t have enough money to rent another place. 

He prefers not to think of his family, even if planning the proposal brought back memories of his childhood, of seeing his parents kissing on Christmas’ Eve under a mistletoe, his mother laughing as if it was a surprise, every year without fail. After the kiss, one of them always told the story of how they got married, filled with soppy details. He knows, now, how much of his family lives with him, how he’s a hopeless romantic like his father, stubborn like his mother, but he also believes leaving them was the best thing he could have done to save himself. When he was younger, he simply wanted to erase his childhood, his name, his education. Only as years passed he realised he could keep the parts of himself he owes to his parents and at the same time never step foot inside their house ever again. 

There are too many clues pointing to his family for it to be a coincidence. The flat, the photo: Arthur knows it and Eames knows it too, but appreciates that Arthur is silent, texting important things to keep them safe from other people wanting to kill them. They drive in silence for more or less fifteen minutes, until Eames recognises one of Mal’s dingiest flats, one she used more than once to escape from Cobb after a bad fight. It’s a small place with a balcony so tiny that it can only be used from one person at a time, and Eames remembers taking turns with Mal to smoke on it, even though the sight from the balcony is awful, just a huge gray wall that it’s probably the back of some boring bank. 

Eames has spent the drive alternating thoughts of his parents and his judgmental uncles, and the memory of Arthur’s surprised expression when Eames showed him the engagement ring. Fifteen minutes, however, cannot prepare him for the moment he realises that the guy ‘sent to kill him’ is cousin Alfred, also known as The Lame Cousin. The Lame Cousin who is currently strapped to a chair with so much duct tape on his mouth that Eames suspects Mal has already found out how boring Al is when he starts talking. 

- _Cousin Al?_

Mal’s eyes grow the size of saucers, while cousin Al seems to have lost the memo that Eames hates his family (hated, maybe) because he starts to cry, relieved to see him. Mal is barefoot, drinking straight from a bottle of wine that Eames guesses she stole from his flat. It’s a bold move, going barefoot in the flat, because Eames doesn’t know how much time has passed since Mal’s last visit, or since anyone cleaned up the place (Ariadne is the most obsessed with hygiene, surprisingly, she cleaned Eames’ kitchen during a meeting and even Arthur was impressed with the result.)

-I am afraid I overestimated the threat.-she says, sounding not apologetic at all, but maybe disappointed-This man couldn’t kill a fly.

Eames doesn’t waste a moment being relieved that no one tried to kill him today (the day’s still young after all), preferring to take the bottle of wine from Mal’s hands (it was from his flat, he knew it) to take a sip. Alfred’s eyes are fixed on him with a mixture of surprise, relief and fear. Eames wonders if Al can see the shape of the gun he has with him at all times. 

-Guys, this is Alfred, my cousin.-he says, avoiding saying Arthur and Mal’s names out loud. Al may be the least interesting person of the family, but he is a loyal puppet. If he’s been sent to know what happened to Eames, he will remember every name and piece of information he hears. Eames swears he can hear Arthur’s posture change accordingly to the new information, the way Arthur’s attention sharpens to the man strapped to the chair in the middle of Mal’s living room/kitchen. 

-Do we have to make him disappear?-Arthur says, cold as an angel of death. Eames loves him a bit more than a moment before, because he knows Arthur is scaring Al to make Eames feel better, because his family once more ignored his wishes, and even if it’s nothing new, it still hurts. Eames doesn’t want to see cousin Al. He wants to kiss Arthur and celebrate the miracle of the possibility of a life together, preferably without Mal cheering on the sidelines. Al is harmless, but he may have brought unwanted attention to the flat, and there are still people angry at them for the Fabergé affair, and the forgery at the MET. 

Al, looking at Arthur, realises soon enough which person in the room is the most terrifying, even if Mal can give Arthur a run for his money. In this evaluation it’s clear Al still thinks of Eames as the cousin he knew, and Eames doesn’t know which course of action is better, to let Al think he’s not a threat, or to let him find out he’d have no problems shooting Al in the leg to keep his new life safe. Right now, he is glad Arthur’s doing the talking, especially because Alfred is again on the verge of tears, and it’s difficult to keep his poker face.

-Nah, he’s not worth it.-Eames says, while Arthur makes sure to look disappointed. 

-Let’s hear, Alfred, what are you doing here?

Arthur goes to remove the duct tape, and in doing so the light catches the ring he now has on his left hand, a simple platinum band that doesn’t clash with the elegance typical of the thief. It was probably a mistake wearing the ring, because Mal sees it immediately, and her face morphs from the detached boredom that was directed to Al a moment before to joy and surprise.

-I KNEW YOU’D SAY YES.-she says, and at the same time, Al cries:-PLEASE EAMES I DIDN’T WANT TO I SWEA-- _Mmmpgh_. 

Arthur puts the duct tape back in place. 

-Well, this is annoying.-Arthur mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. Al is still trying to talk with Eames, writhing on the chair like an oversized worm. The years have not been lenient on him, washing out the green of his eyes, the same as Eames’, and adding roundness to his pale face. Mal looks like she has a congratulation cake hidden in the kitchen, even if Eames had made her promise to keep her mouth shut about the proposal. Knowing Mal, Dom knows too, which means they have more or less a day to celebrate by themselves before one of the Cobbs throws a party with half of their colleagues. Dom is disturbingly interested in keeping tabs with Arthur’s life since the beginning of their professional liaison, and now that Arthur works with him less, he has become the weird older friend who lives vicariously through Arthur’s love life. Being with Mal must not be easy.

-I don’t have time for this.-Arthur snaps- Mal, take Eames’ cousin somewhere very far from here and scare him so much he’s gonna wish he’d never accepted spying on Eames.-he orders, with Al beside him. It’s a total dismissal of Alfred that leaves Eames’ cousin trembling. Just when Al starts to relax, Arthur gives him again the honor of his full, undivided attention. 

-Alfred, when Mal is finished with you, you’re gonna promise to never bother Eames again, just like your family will have to accept Eames doesn’t owe them anything, not now, not ever. Do. You. Understand?-he says, slowly. A gun has appeared in Arthur’s hand, pressed to the man’s soft skin under the chin. Al is silent, terrified, but nods furiously, while Mal seems disappointed that it’s not yet the time to talk about the proposal. 

Eames appreciates the way Arthur’s eyes betray nothing as he takes Eames’ hand and leads him out of the room. 

-When we’re married, I’m gonna be the only family you have to bear to celebrate Christmas with. You know that, right?- Arthur says, the quiet smile back on his face -And I really love the ring. It’s beautiful.

-I’m glad- Eames murmurs. He feels the kind of happiness that seems too difficult to contain in his chest. It spreads in a smile and a probably a few tears as he says:-And you’re already my family, love.

(The photo Al brought with him is framed and, years later, is hanging on the living room, so that Arthur can tell every Christmas’ Eve the story behind it. The tale of the Lame Cousin gets more and more ridiculous each year, but is always delivered with the utmost arthurian seriousness until their second kid grows up believing cousin Al was a MI6 spy sent from Eames’ mother, who belongs to the Royal family. Eames thinks it’s amazing.)

*****

**FOUR (Or, The Wedding)**

Before they start organising the wedding, Arthur and Eames talk about money. Arthur insists they take a serious look at their finances together, and it would be a bit cold if Eames didn’t know it was Arthur’s way to propose talking about their future. It’s a Sunday morning and it’s been a week since they worked. A wonderful thing has happened during the week, the slow unraveling of Arthur's work persona, the man who pretends to be chill for the sake of the client but worries himself to death until the job is done. 

Arthur first loses the tie, then the first buttons of his white, pristine shirts. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and lets his hair free of products, so that Eames can pass a hand between the curls when they are watching tv together, Arthur’s head on Eames’ lap. It’s an equilibrium that feels right and stable, not just a trick of the light before Arthur goes back to being distant and overworked, Eames restless and reckless. They don’t talk about the technicalities of the wedding, or the work they still need to do, and it’s so nice that, even if it’s just for a week, Eames can feel contentment coming off Arthur in waves. 

They talk about money on a Sunday morning while Eames makes breakfast (everybody suspects Arthur can’t cook, and they’re right). Turns out Arthur has saved a lot of money, even with the twenty flats he has scattered around the globe. 

-Then there’s the Swiss bank account-says Arthur, while Eames flips the omelette with a flick of the wrist. 

-Mh-mh, of course.-agrees Eames, a bit distracted: this particular omelette seems suicidal by the way it keeps trying to fall on the kitchen floor. 

-And the house in Venice.

- _Venice?_ Seriously? But you don’t like Venice.-Eames asks. He never thought Arthur would love the constant stream of tourists that is now Venice. Arthur likes traveling for pleasure as long as the place is not crowded with tourists, and many Italian cities don’t fit into the category. Eames, on the other hand, loves Venice even though it’s probably a cliché. 

He remembers being ten years old following his mother through the crowd near piazza San Marco, losing her and then spending the afternoon alone, in the streets that tourists snubbed even though they were beautiful. His mother, furious, found him near the Arsenal, trying to convince a gondolier to bring him as far away from the city centre -and his mother- as possible. Eames remembers how the green muddy water covered some steps that seemed to lead to an underwater city. 

Arthur’s ears are pink as he avoids looking at Eames in the eyes. 

-I had the chance to buy it and the view from it is amazing and… I know you love Venice.

See? If there was ever a moment where Eames could forget how much and why he loves Arthur, it could only lasts a few seconds, because then Arthur would do something like this, something loving and secret but there, waiting to be seen by Eames, and all the love would come back immediately, like memories just after you wake up. 

-Arthur, you are very close to be the official love of my life. 

-And you are burning the omelette. 

-Way to kill the mood, oh _fuck_ , it’s dead. I killed the omelette.

The omelette received the end it wanted, now fuming on the floor, and Eames wonders for a moment how toxic it would be to eat the black parts. Arthur is laughing, so there’s no time to be upset, because it’s the first time something like this happened in the flat they bought together, and it feels like another step in the right direction.

Turns out they have enough resources to stay out of illegal jobs for a while. Eames is quite sure Arthur will try to go back after some time, because he feels the need to be challenged, but he himself is not so sure. He would like to be with Arthur without bullets, for once. Arthur surprises him because he says out loud ‘‘I want to know how it is to love you without bullets.’’ and Eames must be looking at him like Arthur hung up the moon because Arthur blushes again. 

-That’s a concept.-Eames murmurs, and they forget breakfast entirely.

*****

The wedding is like the end of a downhill: it seems very far until it isn’t and then it’s the day of the wedding and there’s nothing else you can do but panic. 

Arthur panics. He looks at the mirror and sees the perfect cut of the tuxedo and the cufflinks and his slicked back hair and thinks _this is all wrong_ . He is dressed like he’s going to meet with a client in a fancy place, and he doesn’t want that. This day is about Eames and Arthur, it’s not work. That’s why outside there are Mal, Cobb, Ariadne and Yusuf and no one else.  
Arthur and Eames had written a long list of colleagues they know quite well, and Mal wanted to invite them all, but Eames was firmly opposed to the idea. 

They were talking about the technicalities of the wedding, like the strict no-guns policy for the guests and the size of the appetizers, when Arthur had seen Eames’ patience break like the string of a violin.  
_I don’t want Nash and the Cobol guys. I don’t want anyone apart from Ariadne and Yusuf. Don’t look at me like that, Mal, I know exactly how it would go. It would be all fine, no guns, no threats, only people who would shoot us as soon as we’d become expendable saying in turns ‘I knew you’d tie the knot’ or ‘I thought you wouldn’t last a week, you know how it is in our line of work’. Then, and only then, with alcohol to loosen the lips, there would be people commenting on Carl’s death, and some of them would be rightly terrified of you, darling, but others would think that our wedding would be the perfect occasion to threaten us because now we are vulnerable, and it’s true! And I don’t want that._

Mal had become silent and that was that. A small wedding, hopefully far from unwanted attention. Mal found the place, a perfectly anonymous building with no connection to any of them, several emergency exits and a nice enough room to eat, dance and drink after the ceremony. It’s clearly not the usual place to host a wedding, because it’s a bit gloomy and close to the airport, but Arthur finds that they can celebrate just fine. 

Everything would be fine if Arthur didn’t look like _Arthur the pointman_ , panicking twenty minutes before the starting of the ceremony. Saito of all people is going to officiate the wedding, something Eames found fitting because he was the one who wanted Robert Fisher kidnapped, the one who commissioned most of their greatest successes. Now Robert Fisher is a thief and a pretty decent one, which confirms Arthur’s suspicions that Eames could make a living out of leading people to a life of crime. 

It’s Ariadne the one who steps into the room and finds Arthur rummaging frantically in his suitcase, prepared for the honeymoon/emergency exit after the wedding. At first she almost slaps him because she thinks Arthur is having second thoughts about the wedding, but then Arthur says: -No, Ariadne… I’m worried about _my hair_ .

This makes her laugh so hard she cries, and after she finds him a jacket that he deems acceptable even in his panic, she has to fix her mascara in Arthur’s room. He has never been so happy to be his friend. 

-You are almost late. Eames will be thrilled.- she says, blinking rapidly in front of the mirror of the bathroom, and it’s not even irony. Eames would love Arthur to be human enough to be late to his own wedding, he would tell the story for ages. It doesn’t happen because Ariadne fixes his hair with her hands, looking at him with the expression of an artist giving the finishing touches to a painting, in a matter of seconds. Ariadne then gives him a kiss on the cheek and runs away to meet with Yusuf, while Arthur has to walk in the room alone. He feels ridiculous as Mal plays something French from her phone, even if she promised him she wouldn’t do it. Eames is waiting for him at the end of the isle, perfectly on time, his shirt an alarming shade of purple, and Arthur feels, quite simply, terribly lucky. 

-Your clothes.- Eames says, sounding scandalised, which means he is delighted. Saito gives him a weird look, but Eames is too busy staring at Arthur to notice. Arthur feels his ears go red, so he just looks straight ahead, taking Eames’ hand because they are getting married, and for once he doesn’t care if he looks ridiculous. 

Dom is already crying, sniffing on a handkerchief Mal probably prepared for this purpose. Suddenly, the tension Arthur didn’t know he was feeling recedes, and he has the urge to laugh. He hears Ariadne laughing and crying as she does when something surprises her, but he doesn’t turn to see what’s happening.

Eames does, and the expression he has as he looks again at Saito, like he is trying to swallow something as he laughs silently, makes Arthur suspects Yusuf smoke something with Dom while they were waiting. It happened before, Dom trying to be a cool guy as Yusuf warns him:‘You know you don’t react well to weed’. Arthur is struck by a distant thought that it’s too absurd to handle right now. Were Ariadne’s pupils blown when she gave him the blue jacket and started laughing without being able to stop? Did she smoke something too?

Is everybody high on his wedding?

It doesn’t matter, because Saito is still the most sensible of the group, and he starts talking with his reasonable voice of happy beginnings, old friendships, and that time Eames almost got himself killed because he wanted to bring Arthur coffee a few minutes before the heist began. Arthur doesn’t imagine how Eames tears up as he claims Arthur is the worst stick in the mud he has ever had the luck to meet, and again when Arthur quotes ‘Emma’, the passage Eames texted him after he was recovering from the bullet wound ( _‘I think you are like Mr Knightley, love if you lovd me less, you mightbe able to talk about it more. also I’m high on morphine right now’_ ).

Ariadne claims is the best wedding she’s ever been to: short, poignant, no awful relatives (‘I’m an orphan, Ariadne.’ ‘Oh my god, Arthur, I’m so sorry.’ ‘Ari, are you crying, oh god it was a joke for once, _Eames help._ ’). The amount of alcohol they keep drinking would be the stuff of legends by the end of the day, if it wasn’t Arthur and Eames’ wedding. 

They both knew it: it couldn’t end in any other way.

Carl’s father sends his regards in the form of ten armed men that try to shoot a very tipsy Saito as he stands up to make a toast (that gives a hint on how much alcohol Mal bought for the wedding day). That’s why Ariadne says:-Oh, thank god.- before pulling out a small gun out of her purse: at least they arrived after the ceremony. Arthur briefly admires the elegance of the gesture, the way she shoots one of Carl’s father’s men in the head without even flinching when some of the blood stains her face and dress.

Mal stabs another guy in the stomach with the knife they used to cut the cake. A bullet flies so close to Dom’s head that Eames screams, and Arthur lets go of years of training telling him to be calm and think rationally and just runs to the Dom, who is crawling under a table, unarmed, while Eames smashes a vase on another black clad figure’s head with a beautiful sound of broken ceramics. Arthur gives Dom one of the guns he hid under the table, mentally congratulating himself to have thought of the worst possible outcome of the evening and having prepared himself accordingly. The room is full of hidden guns and, if the situation gets worse, explosives. 

-Darling, I am not surprised this is happening!-he hears Eames saying, right before Yusuf kicks a guy in the balls and makes his escape (Yusuf is not a fighter, but Arthur’s respect for him increases when he sees how the man he hit is now without his gun wheezing on the floor). 

-Arthur-Mal’s voice is so close to his ear he almost misses the man who looks like the leader, the one who said they wanted ‘the British one’ alive. Mr Carl Turner Senior probably wanted to teach Arthur a lesson, he muses. Too bad: the man shouting orders falls dead from Arthur’s shot. He turns to look at Mal knowing she is right behind him even if he didn’t see her coming, sees the sharp glint in her eyes, despite how much wine she drank with him the night before and in the morning. She looks determined and angry as she grabs his wrist.

-Now you and Eames have to go. -she says-We’ll be fine.

Arthur stupidly wants to stay, even though he knows Mal and Cobb will make their escape with no problems, they got through far worse situations, and Ariadne can fend for herself. It feels like Mal isn’t just talking about this night, about a wedding that Arthur suspects hides the end of an era. 

Mal is looking at him as if, if Arthur chose to leave behind a life of violence, crime and drinking at 5 am to celebrate a successful heist, if Arthur stopped calling, moved to Venice and started writing crime novels, if Mal never heard from him again, she wouldn’t be angry, like she expects to be left behind, now that Arthur has something to lose and has already plans to spend some time on the legal side of life. 

-You know that I love you, right?-Arthur says, because Mal is Dom’s everything, but before that she was Arthur’s first friend and partner in crime. 

Mal shakes her head, blinks away tears, melodramatic as she’s always been:-I know, Arthur. Now go get your husband. I think he needs you right now. 

Arthur has lost sight of Eames, but his voice carries outside the room, through the corridor that leads to the outside. Eames is _singing_ , unrepentantly off-key as he does when he’s having fun or just wants to piss his chasers off. Arthur thinks they probably _need_ a safer life if Arthur plans to keep Eames for the next two or three decades.

Arthur turns the corner, finds Eames knocking one man down with a vicious head butt. Eames sees him but doesn’t say anything, enjoying the way the last man screams in pure terror when he sees Arthur shoot his friend from the end of the corridor. Arthur’s shirt and hands are still stained with the blood of the one he stabbed with a fork in his eye. The man screams, but it’s too late for that. 

Surrounded by dead bodies and with profanities in French still audible from the bigger room, Eames looks at Arthur and breathes a sigh of relief.

-You weren’t coming, I was…

Arthur kisses Eames, smearing the blood of their enemies on Eames’ face and hair, probably, just to keep him as close as it’s physically possible. Eames doesn’t mind. 

-We- Eames says as his back hits the wall -we really have to go.

-I know. I think we can take our things in the process, but we may have to escape through the roof.

-Wonderful. Lead the way, love. The first to get shot loses.

-You know what, Mr.Eames? I think we may be over that. 

(They move to Venice for a month before Arthur threatens to kill an annoying tourist with a sniper rifle. Arthur does, after a few years, write a crime novel, and even if he has to edit some parts Mal claims is the best diary she has ever had the pleasure to read. Eames paints fakes until he gets tired of it and starts working on some originals.)

(They steal the Venus of Urbino from the Uffizi as a dare, for their third anniversary. Before they bring it back, Eames tells Mal it’s their gift to celebrate the birth of Philippa. Surprisingly, Mal hugs him and tells him she loves him.)

(Neither of them gets shot again.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as @dickensir, if you want to chat and see the stupid things I post. Tell me what you thought of this, comments make me very happy (duh)!


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